


Unimaginable

by mariuspunmercy



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Self-Doubt, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29898570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariuspunmercy/pseuds/mariuspunmercy
Summary: Tommy didn't have a symphony to finish, but he did certainly have unfinished business.While everyone is having those moments where they push away or soak in the unimaginable, the ghost of Tommy brings light to the connection that they once had with him.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 3
Kudos: 84





	Unimaginable

**Author's Note:**

> listen okay i was writing this before tommy's stream and the syndicate stuff but i refuse to let this go unpublished
> 
> also tubbo, techno, and tommy's friendship isn't the only one featured! i hate clogging my fics with tags though, so there's is the only tag i actually included for the sake of including all characters in the character list.

The sunset’s nice. 

It’s brighter these days. Tubbo can’t quite figure out why that is, but he knows he enjoys it. Just before the moon rises, he comes by and watches as the sky turns a bit more red than it’s ever been. 

He doesn’t think it’s a coincidence. Nothing seems to be a coincidence these days, with all his evidence pointing to one person or another. Maybe sitting on the bench will finally lead him to the culprit of the TNT. The explosion was caused to keep Tommy locked in with Dream, and Tubbo swears to find who’s caused this.

The wind blows against his face, the feel of fresh air for the first time today nicer than he expects. Ranboo’s been on him all day, standing behind him and watching what he does to make sure he’s taken care of. He doesn’t need to be taken care of; _he needs answers._

If it costs him some time, then oh well. It’s the least he could do now, with nothing else to give except his efforts to figure out what happened. He owes it to Tommy. Ranboo will see that one of these days and stop bugging him to drink water or crack open a window. He can’t take breaks when there’s something of this importance racking his brain. 

_“Tubbo?”_

He nearly shouts. At first, he mistook the voice for Ranboo, who would probably congratulate him for getting out of his chair and putting down the red yarn. He didn’t even turn around to face him, pretending he hadn’t heard and hoping Ranboo would take the hint and give him ten minutes alone to do his nightly ritual.

But then he heard it again. “Tubbo!” 

It was an excited tone, and nobody’s been this happy to see him in a long time. When they say his name, it’s a whisper because they don’t know how to approach. Or they cast their eyes downward as if he’s a kicked puppy and they’re apologizing for his loss. He hasn’t heard his name in that tone for a while now, and as if on autopilot, he whipped around to see who it had come from. 

“Tubbo!” 

He stands from the bench when he sees the figure. Clear as day, a faded red shirt, discolored hair, and pale grey skin. It’s _Tommy,_ and the thumping in his chest increases the longer he stands there staring. 

Of course, he knew. He knew he wasn’t dead, he’s been saying it from the start. It’s why he can’t figure out the mystery behind the TNT; _it didn’t happen._ Tommy’s okay, just as he believed. He was right, obviously he was right because Tommy couldn’t be dead. 

“Tubbo!” 

Tommy stood by his house. He ran forward, and Tubbo sprinted to meet him in the middle. A sense of relief overwhelmed him, just so _happy_ that he was right the whole time. He wasn’t even proud, just alleviated. 

His legs burnt slightly from sitting and standing all day. It’s not like he runs on the regular, even less so sprinting at the speed he was going at. He didn’t care. It wouldn’t matter when he got to wrap his arms around Tommy and tell him all about how much everyone grieved because they all thought he was gone. Tommy would laugh, and they’d sit on the bench and listen to a disc.

The tears were falling from his face before he even reached him. With outstretched arms and a smile across his face, he grabbed Tommy by the shoulders and pulled him in as close as humanly possible. He ignored the way his red shirt wasn’t as vibrant or why his arms were so much _paler_ than usual. It must’ve been from the malnourishment in the prison. Staying in there for a week with Dream was never going to be kind, after all. 

“Oh, I’m glad you were the first person I ran into!” Tommy shouted. “I was looking for you, but it didn’t take very long!” 

Tubbo’s knees buckled, and Tommy followed him to the ground. He tried to muffle his cries, and he knows Tommy’s going to make fun of him for crying over nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t even know he could cry out of relief this hard. 

“The first time I saw you after thinking you were dead, I was angry the whole time,” Tubbo mentions. “I’m just really happy right now.” 

“First time?” 

“Never mind that,” Tubbo says, pulling back to get a good look at Tommy’s pale, grey skin. Sam did not give him nearly enough food in prison. “Come on, sit on the bench with me. You’ve probably been dying to listen to one of your discs.” 

“What discs?”

Tubbo looks at him, _really_ looks at him, and when he makes the connection between _happy memories_ and what Tommy’s saying, he swears he’s never let out a sob that’s so wrecked. It hurts his throat and hands but he claws at his neck, at his horns, his hair, anything he could reach. 

“Tubbo?”

He shouts and he sobs, and the ghost pats him on the back and tries its very best to console him. It doesn’t help, and his throat is raw and his hands have scratches by the time the moon comes up with a permanently vacant spot on the bench. 

* * *

Techno’s sigh was the loudest part of the hotel. 

He never would’ve thought. Seeing as it was being built by _Tommy,_ he didn’t think there’d ever be a moment of silence. Not with the most energetic, loud, crazed kid he’ll ever know running it. The quiet _hurts_ him even, a ringing noise sounding in his ears because there’s no laughing or shouting coming from within. 

The invitation is gripped tightly in his hand, the lobby floor steady underneath his feet. He doesn’t go up to see the rooms. He has no interest in doing so, though he doesn’t know _why._

Tommy’s gone. So what? He shouldn’t be this distraught. He destroyed his home without a second thought and actively aided in Wilbur’s destruction. He shouldn’t have been at the Nether Fortress all day and night for the past forty-eight hours, striking Wither skeleton after skeleton just to distract himself from that pang in his chest. 

Why _should_ he care? Why does he care? He hasn’t seen him since before his fight with Dream, though he did stay up all night until Ranboo brought him the news that he had survived. He survived the fight, and that’s always the most important thing in Techno’s eyes. What cost him this time? Why didn’t he win?

“You came!” 

The voice brought a chill up his spine. He whirled around to see who it belonged to, mainly because it snuck up on him. Not many people can do that, and he was already prepared to see how this person did. 

His shoulders deflated when he saw a small, pale boy standing in the doorway. Same color as Ghostbur, same red shirt that’s dull, and the same bright smile he’s always adorned. He was expecting a ghost. He just didn’t think he’d find one so quickly. 

Tommy was young, after all. So, _so_ young. It’s obvious that he’d have unfinished business, and Techno wasn’t even that spooked. More troubled, seeing a reflection of the kid he once knew. 

“I’m glad someone’s here! It sucks that I didn’t get to open my hotel officially, but if you’re here then that means you were going to come!” 

Techno gripped the invitation tighter. He’s surprised it hasn’t ripped yet. He’s surprised he’s here in the first place and feeling a sense of remorse. He didn’t feel this way on Doomsday. He feels it tenfold now. 

“Why’d…” Techno hesitates. Tommy walks towards him, and Techno hopes he can get an answer. “Why’d you invite me to your hotel opening?”

 _Please be a happy memory,_ he finds himself thinking. Why does he want to know so badly?

“I wanted to see you again!” Tommy shouts in his familiar fashion. “It’s been a while, and I have a lot of happy memories with you! Of course I’d want you to be at my hotel opening. You’re like an older brother, and I think I would’ve wanted your approval. If it’s good enough for Technoblade, then I did something right.”

He took a step back. He wasn’t expecting all of it at once, or even for Tommy to be so upfront with him. He wasn’t like that when he was alive. Is this another ghost thing? Would Ghostbur do this and Techno never paid attention?

How is he a happy memory in the first place? The Withers weren’t happy, Doomsday wasn’t happy, and Tommy wasn’t exactly happy to see his chamber of skeleton heads for when the inevitable day came to destroy Wilbur’s symphony. 

“What memories do you have of me?” Why does he want to know? Why do his knees feel weak, set to crumble upon the slightest movement? How does he know he won’t be able to sleep at night if he doesn’t get these answers? 

“I remember living in your cabin! There was that one night where you gave me a blue scarf because I was cold, and then it started snowing outside. You lived there and was used to the snow, but you sat by the window with me for a while just because I was there. We had our matching bedrock, but I don’t know where I left mine…” 

A part of him craves for that again. The rush of seeing bright red in his line of sight, knowing he’s off to cause more mayhem in Pogtopia. Or when he’d hear a crash and go to check to see what was up, only to find Tommy trying to redecorate his cabin in the snow. The adrenaline that coursed through his blood and body while he prepared to fight all of New L’Manberg only for Tommy to switch sides and leave.

It was for the best. But maybe, just perhaps, if Techno was still around, he might’ve been able to protect him from Dream while they were trapped in that cell together and he died a clumsy, lonely death. 

“You look up to me?” Techno scoffed, the idea ridiculous. “I looked up to you. Your optimism, your ability to believe in what you do, the way you’re actually sure of yourself…” He shut his mouth. No point rambling to a ghost. 

“Yeah, but you were always more stable than me and I really liked that about you!” Tommy waved goodbye, one foot out the door as he started exiting the hotel. “I’ll see you again, Techno! I’ll come visit you and braid your hair, just like I always did!”

Techno’s fingers reach up to touch the wisps of his ponytail. He hasn’t worn his hair in a braid because no one else could do it. He didn’t wave back, clutching the invitation closer to his chest as he stood in the silent hotel. 

* * *

Phil didn’t think he’d miss someone like this again.

It sounds ridiculous, seeing as the past couple times he’s seen his son’s ghost, he had to force himself to stop caring. He was trying to find Ghostbur actually, mainly because he has some time before Techno begins to worry where he’s at and he wanted to see him again. Instead, he found a different ghost wandering around curiously. Phil ended up showing him around to ensure he doesn’t walk into the wrong place again. He seemed pretty confused once he got to the crater in L’Manberg. 

“I don’t remember it being like this,” Tommy commented. “I don’t remember you being here either. I have memories of when I was a kid and you were there. Techno and Wilbur are there, and I have newer memories of them too. But none of you. When did you get _here?”_

 _You’re not a happy memory to him anymore,_ he thought. He quickly shrugged it off. Once a couple of centuries pass by with friends that come and go, hearing such news isn’t anything he’s never heard before. 

“Let me show you something,” Phil replied.

“What happened to L’Manberg?” Tommy insisted. “Wilbur didn’t leave it like this.”

“Something bad happened,” Phil answered as best he could. He couldn’t explain his part in this. How would he? How would he tell this ghost that he had a hand in destroying his home and the last living remnant of Wilbur? He wouldn’t handle hearing what Tommy would have to say.

Considering it was _his_ name Tommy called out for in the beginning, pleading for the man who failed him time and time again, he wasn’t prepared for this conversation yet. It should be getting easier with the years he carries on his belt, but nothing in his experience prepared him for the abrupt end of this lively child’s life.

Sam broke the news. The warden, shoulders hunched with sorrow, explained the details of the week. How Tommy and Dream often sat in different corners, and then side by side. Dream putting his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, and Tommy standing still. Then it finally happened, when Dream wrapped his hands around Tommy’s neck and-

_He cried out for your help, and you weren’t there._

“I liked L’Manberg.”

Phil sighed, rubbing his hands together to keep warm in the midnight air. “Yeah, you really did. You loved it. You loved a lot of things.”

“Who’s been taking care of Henry? I don’t remember who’s care I left him in, but I trust that they’re doing a good job!” 

Henry, Friend, Carl; attachments that Phil hasn’t had the luxury of making. It’s been too long. He outlives every animal, every person, everyone that’s ever stepped into his life. A goddamn sixteen year old that couldn’t even make it past his teenage years. Another one gone once again, just like always. 

“I’d ask Puffy about Henry. She’s really good at taking care of everything.” 

Better than he’s ever been. Centuries of being alive has made him careless for the things he cares for. Most of all, he’s _numb._ He expected to bury Wilbur, not the way he did, but he knew it was going to happen. He knows he’s going to have to bury Techno and Ranboo, but not until the foreseeable future. 

Phil didn’t get to say goodbye. Tommy didn’t get any last words either. He didn’t get to see Tubbo, or Jack, or anybody else he was connected to. His life was just… cut off. It’ll never be something Phil understands. A shining light in this mess of a world, and its color is dulled to washed up red and skin that matches his son’s ghost. 

A hand clutches onto his sleeve. Tommy’s peeking over the hole, his eyes studying every aspect of the ruins. Phil holds onto his hand, keeping their fingers interlocked to keep him in place. His hand is _cold,_ gentle and soft. Nothing like the warmth Tommy used to carry with him wherever he went, hands calloused and coarse from the endless fighting and wars.

Holding onto the hand of this child, he sets a reminder for himself to talk to Sam later. He’s used to this. He’s used to picking up the corpses of his fallen friends and digging their grave. Nobody else is, and for that he knows he needs to be the one to go into Dream’s cell and collect the body.

“The hole is pretty scary,” Tommy jokes, dangling a foot over the edge. Would a tumble to the bottom even hurt him? “It’s like a cliff, all deep.” 

_Theseus. Theseus. Theseus._

Except Theseus is gone this time, and there’s no welcoming him home.

* * *

Tubbo’s asleep.

Actually, he didn’t fall asleep on his own accord. Ranboo found him passed out on the ground in front of Tommy’s house and had to take him to bed. It bugged him to know Tubbo probably looking for more clues. Ranboo hopes this obsession with finding this “suspect” goes away soon. He doesn’t like the uncertainty of who this investigation might lead to.

With Tubbo asleep, Ranboo takes the opportunity to grieve the way he knows how. He waters the allium, careful not to splash any on his skin. He’s noticed the various flowers that now litter the land, planted by others in passing. 

He still has disbelief that Tommy kept the flower. He would’ve thought with it being his last possession before exile, _his last normal,_ that it would’ve been too painful to keep. Ranboo knows he wouldn’t have kept it had the roles been reversed, and that alone crushes his soul in guilt. 

“Why are you gardening? The sun isn’t even up.”

The quip sounds like something Tubbo would say, but he knows who that echoey voice belongs to. It rings in his ears, full of motivational speeches before battles and hilarious comments when he’s just being himself. 

Ranboo, careful not to step on any flowers, stands to where the source of the voice came. For just a moment, he’s hopeful that the person standing there is going to be alive and announce that he got the upper hand against Dream. For once, can _somebody_ get the upper hand?

His hopes were crushed. A ghost very clearly stood near him, looking almost exactly like Tommy, except that something was missing. He clutched a familiar green hat in his hand, and Ranboo makes a mental note to ask Phil about his experience with Tommy later. 

“You must like gardening an awful lot to be doing it at a time like this. You like flowers, Ranboo?”

The air left his lungs. He couldn’t think of a response to _that,_ not when he’s too tired for his own good. He gestured limply to the flowers all over the place, that are _everywhere._ They surround him, surround everything, to remind everyone of the friend that left them when he might’ve been needed the most. 

“Look at the impact you had!” Ranboo cried out. “At the buildings and the history! Almost everything has a little piece of you! I see flowers and turn away! Techno won’t look to the skyline if it doesn’t have a cobblestone tower to ruin the view! Tubbo can’t use a brewing stand, or turn on a jukebox, or even sleep because he doesn’t have you by his side anymore! You’re alive in almost every aspect, but we grieve because we know we can’t get you back!”

Ranboo won’t be remembered that way. He’s a traitor, a liar, and a pawn that causes destruction no matter how hard he tries to be a good person. When he’s gone and they think of Ranboo, they aren’t going to think of the determined soldier or the kid that’s loved and mourned. They’ll think of the guy that helped Dream cause mayhem and chaos. He might’ve brought Tommy to his death as it is. 

“And you kept the flower! Why’d you keep it? We both know our friendship was one-sided towards the end. After Doomsday, I never checked up on you or made an effort to try being your friend. I just… _Why?_ Why would you keep it if you didn’t have a real attachment to me?”

Tommy looked uncomfortable, but he smiled nonetheless. “Well, that’s not true. I don’t remember much about exile, but I do have really clear memories of you. It’s all fuzzy, but I can see you visiting me. I like the flower. I keep stuff I like, and if it was from you, then that must mean I liked it.” 

It took a minute for the words to settle. “You don’t remember when I gave you the flower?”

He shook his head. “No, but it must’ve been for something good if I thought to keep it.”

Of course burning George’s house wouldn’t be a good memory. It’s what caused his exile, his downfall, the beginning to the end of his life. Ranboo should’ve known. 

“Can you give this back to Phil, please?” Tommy stretched out his arm to hand him the hat. “He told me to take it, but I know how much he loves his hat and I don’t want to keep it.”

“You remember Phil?”

“I remember a lot about Phil from the early days, but not so much now.”

Ranboo took the hat gingerly, tucking it under his arm. He nodded, and Tommy waved as he began going down the path. Ranboo wonders where he’s heading off to next, and he hopes he can see him again. 

“Bye, Ranboo! Take care of Tubbo when I can’t be there!”

He nods in agreement, raising a hand to wave back. Taking care of Tubbo is the least he can do, seeing as he might’ve been the one to lead him to his early, early grave.

He knows what Sam wrote in his memory book, but he can’t make himself believe it.

* * *

She thought she would’ve been a mess seeing the ghost for the first time.

Puffy already had her expectations. She’d heard from Bad’s mumbles that there was a tiny ghost walking around the land, accidentally meeting people one by one. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle seeing his small, frail figure walking around. 

A ghost. A ghost that wasn’t meant to be a ghost _this soon,_ who still had an entire future and life ahead of him. And he did! He was always so ready to jump into the next fight, fearless and brave enough for everybody. Yet he’s the one who carries the burden of dying alone in the horrific way he did. 

She thought she was going to see his ghost and cry, seeing how undeserving he was to fall to a fate so cruel. With loss after loss, after giving the world everything he had, after starting a new beginning, he’s the one who wasn’t given the privilege of keeping and celebrating his last life for himself. 

Unlike Wilbur’s death, a spectacle for all to see, or Schlatt’s, where it happened suddenly and nobody had remorse for him, Tommy’s was just sad. Because as much as she would want to believe that he died a hero and poetically, she knows it was brutal and disappointing. 

She thought she was going to lose her mind, feel the tears fall down her face and hide behind her hat because she couldn’t explain to a ghost of a child why his death made her so upset. Why his ghost is a reflection of her own failure, and seeing him around would only serve as that reminder that she couldn’t keep him safe. 

What she didn’t expect was to be angry. 

He found her at the Nether portal, where she stood and tried to gain the courage to go see Logstedshire again. He tapped her shoulder gently, his face lit up with a grin that she hasn’t seen for a while. She was hard at work trying to help it return. She couldn’t even make him smile. 

Her anger wasn’t directed towards him. He didn’t deserve it, after all. He never did. Everyone misdirects their anger at Tommy to deflect taking any sort of responsibility or consequences for themselves. He’s done wrong, and he’s done right to fix those wrongs. But time and time again, those who are angry teach him lesson after lesson, and all they do is inflict their own pain onto a kid who has enough of his own. 

No, the sense of anger bubbling up in her is towards the one who forced him into a grave when he wasn’t supposed to be there yet. A sudden end to his life, and there’s nothing she can do but curl her fist and curse her duckling’s name into the wind. 

“Puffy! It’s been a while!” 

Her hand twitched as she tried not to shake too much, her vision blurry with the unshed tears she held in. Seeing him like this is always going to be a tragedy. But she’s _angry,_ and she wants someone to pay justice for what her duckling has done to this kid. 

“It has. I’m sorry for how long its been, I should’ve been by your side.” It was the vow she made, the promise she fully intended to keep but couldn’t. How did she think she could protect Tommy against a monster that’s bloodthirsty and murderous? 

“No worries! I had Tubbo, Techno, and other people! But I appreciate everything you’ve done for me!” 

“Can you name a single thing I’ve done?” She tried not to sneer at him, but he truly had no idea. If he died, then that means all her efforts were futile and she accomplished nothing. She’d have to bear that with her every time the ghost passes by her. 

Tommy thought for a moment, determined to find an answer to her question. He doesn’t want to let her down. She decides to spare him because she seems to be the only one who wants to do so lately. She goes to put a hand on his shoulder, but decides against it. The feeling of his ghostly skin would be too much for her. 

She shakes her head instead, and he pays closer attention to her. “Are you related to Friend?” He blurts out. 

She’s reminded of the horns on her head, and she laughs while ignoring the hiccup that escaped her lips. “No, but I am a sheep. We’re the same species, but we’re not related in any sort of way.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I really liked Friend and I wanted to see him again, but no matter where I go, I can’t find him or Henry. Phil said to ask you because you’re good at taking care of things.”

Not good enough. 

The first tear ran down her cheek, and she turned away and started walking away from the portal. He doesn’t have to worry about her when he doesn’t need to. “The animals are in the woods. I’d start looking there.”

Maybe it’s bad to lie to a ghost that’ll take everything she says with value, but she just didn’t know what else to tell him. What the hell are you supposed to say to a kid who gave everything he had to the world and his friends but could never get anything in return?

* * *

The open window blew away the bed sheet he’d just finished fixing. 

Jack sighed, walking back over to the window and slamming it closed. He wished he’d noticed it before he started his nightly sweep of the hotel. It could’ve saved him the extra few seconds of having to fix the sheet again. He always wants to get out of here as soon as he can. 

From the second floor, he could hear the footsteps of someone walking in. He’s shocked. Everyone besides Tubbo steers clear of the hotel. Nobody wants to go in when it never got an official opening. It never will. 

He expects it to be Techno again. Jack had come in earlier to begin fixing up the rooms and found the man sitting against the wall, his crown crooked, his head in between his knees, and his fists curling around a piece of paper that everyone personally received. 

That’s who Tommy is, right? The guy who wanted to settle down after the fighting and have a communal place where everyone would be welcomed. Or is he the idiot that caused every problem and was the reason for Jack’s pain and suffering? 

He doesn’t know anymore, and it used to be the one thing he was sure of.

Was it worth it? The hours he spent awake, piecing together only the best plans to take down Tommy when he was least suspecting? The times he couldn’t even breathe because his anger stole his breath? Has it ever been worth it?

Jack went down the ladder, prepared to give Techno a room if he absolutely wanted one. He understood the need to stay inside the last remaining building that Tommy contributed to. There’s no more cobblestone towers that Jack used to walk past to fuel his anger, instead a beautiful hotel that likely won’t ever see the light of day. 

He checks around the lobby for a minute, confused as to where Techno had gone. The only thing he saw was a grey skinned figure looking out one of the many windows. 

“Ghostbur?” He calls out, but there’s no audible response. The figure turns, and his jaw drops when it becomes clear who just walked into the hotel.

“Wow!” Tommy smiles quite brightly. Has it always been like that? “You’re really keeping this place up and running! I’m glad! I was scared that everybody was going to forget about the hotel because I wasn’t shoving it into people’s faces, but so far you and Techno have been here! This is good news!” 

“You’re a ghost now?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, it appears I am!” Tommy scratched the back of his neck, walking up to the front desk and peering behind it. “Thank you, Jack. I’m really proud of this hotel, and I’m sure if I ask Phil, he will be too! All my friends love it, and I’m glad you love it enough to continue working.”

“You’re… dead,” Jack repeats to himself. He repeats it over and over until it’s cemented into his mind.

Tommy’s dead. This is what he wanted. Just because it wasn’t him doesn’t mean that this death was a total waste. He should be overwhelmed with pride. This ghost is actual proof that he’s dead. Jack shouldn’t be hurting anymore. It all should’ve gone away. He wasn’t supposed to still feel empty. His peace should be made. Why isn’t it? Why does it still hurt so much? 

He already had his walk around L’Manberg. He knows Tommy’s the closest thing he’ll ever have to a friend. Niki sticks with him because they had the same motives, and he used Tubbo to get closer to killing Tommy… Anyone else? 

No, and it hurts less to say _no_ than it does to think of Tommy’s death.

Tommy opened his mouth to respond to his comment. Jack couldn’t listen. “Well, I’ve been staying here because my house burned down. I don’t know how that happened, but it's not like I can do anything now.”

 _I want to move on,_ he thought. _I just want to feel at peace, and I can see now that this was never the right way._

“That sucks,” Tommy emphasized. “Did you see what happened to L’Manberg? Big hole?” 

“Yeah, I’ve seen it,” he whispers back. “Do you not have a place to stay either?”

“No. Puffy ran off on me and I saw how late it was and figured I should be heading to bed. Where else to go besides the best hotel in the area?”

Oh, right. He was in prison and died while Tubbo and Ranboo made their own hotel for the sake of competition. They knew Tommy wouldn’t back down. Jack knew too. He still thinks he can win if he puts all his effort into caring for this place. 

“Can I just choose a room? I remember my favorite being the suite on the top floor.”

“It’s your hotel. You can have whatever room you want.”

Tommy gave him a thumbs up, that bright smile illuminating the empty hotel again. How did Jack never realize the light he gave off? How could he have been so full of rage that he thought the times Tommy wronged him warranted death? 

“Great! I’ll see you all in the morning! I want to investigate the L’Manberg hole more, if you want to join me.”

Jack shook his head. “I have to stay here. What if someone wants to come stay? Techno might come back.”

Tommy visibly swooned. “I really did choose the best person to work here. I’ll talk to Sam Nook on my way out!”

Jack didn’t have to heart to tell Tommy that Sam Nook is now guarding the prison after the news accidentally hit him. Not even _he_ wanted to be around the hotel when there was no Tommy coming back to mow the weeds or make improvements. 

“When you see Niki down in the hole tomorrow, tell her I said hi.”

“She’ll be there?”

Jack nodded. “She’s there every morning.” 

“Great! Good night, Jack! Have a good rest, my friend!”

Jack didn’t respond, leaning forward with his hands on the desk. Was it worth it? Was it worth all that time and energy into plotting to kill Tommy when the sorrow and pain in his chest is even worse now that he’s finally dead?

* * *

Her feet dangled in the hole. 

The glass at the bottom always shines the most when it’s the morning. Niki enjoys watching the sunrise at the early hours when nobody is awake yet and she can sit in the destruction she played a part in.

L’Manberg screams. It always screams when she’s here. It screams and cries and begs for someone to put the broken pieces and make it a home again. She’s not going to be that someone, and she doesn’t care enough to put her valuable time into this place. Not again.

She’s surprised there’s no more residue of gunpowder or ash. When Fundy burnt the flag, she found ash sweeping the ground for a long, long time. 

“L'Mantree's gone? When did that happen?”

Niki slowly turned, and once her eyes caught sight of the red and white shirt that stood where the tree once was, she got onto her feet and started approaching. What does Tommy _mean?_ He loved the tree almost as much as she did. Surely, he would’ve known that the tree has been long gone.

“Tommy, it hasn’t been here for a while,” Niki says, her eyes forward. “Are you just now noticing?”

“I wish I didn’t only have happy memories,” he grumbles. “Being a ghost would be much better if I could remember everything from my life.”

She whipped her head to see him. Her breath caught in her throat when she recognized his skin. Her hands shook when the color of his shirt and hair were unfamiliar. He’s always loud. He’s brash and rude and uncaring in what he does. But above all, he’s vibrant and makes himself known. He’s not shy, the way this ghost is curling in on himself and staring at the spot where the tree didn’t stand. 

“You died? When? How did this happen?” She didn’t get the news. No one bothered to tell her, she assumes.

“I don’t remember exactly _how,_ which I don’t like because I want to know more about myself. I know Dream was there, but my Dream memories are weird. I have them, but I can’t really decide if they’re happy or not.”

“Dream killed you?”

“I think so?”

Niki nods. In a way, she believes the ghosts are worse than the person truly being gone. She never wanted to see Wilbur again, and he returns and doesn’t bother learning anything about her. Was she not a happy memory? Did her best friend not think her important enough to see how she was doing after everything?

He wasn’t any better alive either. He left her under Schlatt’s horrible treatment when he had the haven of Pogtopia she could’ve retreated to. She didn’t _have_ to be there. He knew what was going on, and he abandoned her when all she needed was a friend. Fundy and Quackity ignored her, Tubbo had his own problems, and Schlatt downright mistreated her. 

When was it her turn to have someone care for her? She wants _respect._ She would’ve thought that killing Tommy would bring that attention to her, and everyone would have to notice her. Puffy’s gone, she hasn’t seen Jack in weeks, and no one checked up on her to give her an update on Tommy’s status. At this point, they must be doing it on purpose. Doesn’t she go through stuff too? Can’t anyone see that she’s suffering while they’ve tossed her aside?

“Everyone looks at me all sad,” Tommy says. “I don’t know exactly why. I think it might be because I’m young, but I don’t really mind it. A ghost is pretty cool.”

“Yeah?” Ghostbur never cared for her, and she doesn’t expect Tommy to either. 

“Yeah! I have unfinished business, and I get to take care of it now!” 

_He_ has unfinished business? The kid did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to. As did Wilbur, Schlatt, and everyone else in her life who made her their sidekick first and a friend second. 

“When did you die? How did you manage to die?”

“Got myself killed.”

 _Got himself killed._ A fate like Wilbur’s, who begged for death so desperately that his father saw him far too gone to consider saving. Or is he more comparable to Schlatt, who drank himself to his grave? 

“What’d everyone else have to say?” Niki asks. She needs to know: who else knew and actively chose not to tell her? She didn’t find out Ghostbur even existed until she stood before an exploded community house and saw the heartbroken eyes of a friend she once knew.

Just like always, her feelings and sentiments were pushed to the side to make way for everyone else. And she’s done allowing that to happen.

“Tubbo cried a lot. No one else cried. I just had conversations with them all. It was nice. I want to talk more with everyone.”

 _Don’t talk to me,_ she wants to say. 

The ghosts leave a bad taste in her mouth. She wants nothing to do with them, primarily because they want nothing to do with her. Why should they? Wilbur hardly talked to her once he started Pogtopia, and Tommy created problems for her to clean up after. She didn’t want to see them any more than she had to. 

Wilbur’s gone. Tommy’s gone. What now? It’s not like she had an impact on their lives.

“I’ll see you later, Tommy,” she lies. “One of these days, I guess.”

She begins walking away before she catches his response. She has her own problems and troubles to be dealing with. She ignores the ghost, not out of selfishness, but because she knows he’ll likely never try to seek her out anymore.

* * *

It didn’t take long to track down the ghost.

Ghostbur’s painfully obvious to spot, and his alive counterpart wasn’t even that hyper. Finding Tommy wasn’t difficult, and dragging him to the prison didn’t take much convincing. Tommy didn’t remember it anyways.

Sam sat him down, swiped at his eyes before he could shed a tear, and started telling the story of his death. He just wanted to explain things, tell him what happened, and continue telling him every time he forgets. His death isn’t going to be a happy memory. 

“So, Dream got angry and killed you,” Sam explained, watching Tommy carefully to see how he takes in the information. “Phil’s offered to take your body out of the cell. He’ll come by later if you want to see him again.”

“I had a feeling it was Dream,” Tommy admits. “I was telling Niki about it. I have all these memories of him, but I don’t even know if they’re happy. But I remember them, so they must be.”

Sam’s heard it all. Dream’s boasted to him in explicit detail everything that happened during exile. He’s not surprised the ghost has a hard time figuring out his feelings about Dream. Not even Tommy could perfectly map out the feelings he had. Sam could’ve helped. He could’ve done something besides keeping him locked in that cell.

“This was going to be your last time seeing Dream,” Sam says. “You were going to come out of the prison better than you came in. It’s my fault you were in there long enough for him to kill you.” 

“I don’t think it was your fault,” Tommy dismisses. “You weren’t even there.”

“I _was._ You yelled for me and Phil to get you out but neither of us could. We let you down, Tommy. It’s okay, I understand my role in this.”

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

It _was._

Sam imagines what would’ve happened if he let Tommy out despite the risks. Where he helps Tommy begin that road to recovery and his healing process instead of holding him back. Instead of forcing him into that cell, locking him in, and getting him killed. 

“There’s a lot that happened during your death.”

He heard the yelling. He heard Tommy’s shouts and by the time he checked the cameras to see what had happened, the limp body was already at Dream’s feet, and he was wiping his hands down in the cauldron. He’s sure there’s blood still stained on the floor. He doesn’t want to ask Phil to clean it. Sam’s just going to suck it up and mop it himself. 

“Yeah, but it couldn’t have been your fault.”

“As a warden, it’s my job to keep the entire prison on lockdown when there’s a security breach,” Sam informed. “But as your friend, I shouldn’t have kept you in there.”

He never even found where the TNT came from. He knows Tubbo’s trying to solve it by himself, but he doesn’t exactly trust Tubbo’s judgement. He’s emotional and needs to throw himself into something to avoid coming to terms with it all. Sam needs to do his own investigation, but he’ll keep an eye on him. 

“Well, that’s alright. You were doing what you were supposed to. I can’t blame you for that.”

He doesn’t know how to explain that the hardest thing he’s done is have to walk up to Tubbo, look him in the eyes, and tell him that Sam left Tommy in a cell. He left him vulnerable and he died because of his failure to figure out the security breach quick enough to get him out. 

“You wanted to leave and I made you stay put. You were crying to me because you wanted out, and I made you stay. Surely, you see where I’ve done wrong.”

 _You want to be a hero, Tommy?_ Sam remembers. _Then die like one!_

But he didn’t. The only similarity he has to a hero’s death is how young he passed.

Sam couldn’t be what was needed in that moment because of his own indecisiveness. Maybe Dream would’ve stayed put if he’d gone in to rescue Tommy a moment earlier. Or if he’d been quicker and got Tommy out as soon as the TNT had gone off. There’s just _so much more_ that Sam could’ve done that would’ve prevented this. 

He imagines a scenario where all went well. Tommy said his final goodbye, took a deep breath, and walked out of that prison with all the closure he needed. He’d return to Sam Nook, open his hotel, and have the time of his life as he recovers and becomes the best version of himself that he could be. He carried his optimism and hope on his sleeve when he walked in, and he never even left the prison.

Sam took away that opportunity when he left him vulnerable in a cell with _Dream._ How did he think he could leave him in there and everything would be fine? That’d he just collect him at the end and nothing would come of this?

But it’s his _job._ He had to keep him there. He enters the prison and he’s the warden. It wouldn’t warrant breaking protocol. No one would’ve guessed that Dream would actually kill him. Dream’s attached to Tommy now. What reason would he have to kill him? What happened in those final moments to cause Dream to beat him with nothing but his fist until the life drained from his body?

“I don’t, quite honestly.” Tommy stood, and he patted Sam on the head. He dryly chuckled. He probably remembered that from how many people used to ruffle his blonde curls. “I’m going to talk to Sam Nook out front. I’ll see you later, Sam. I don’t think this is your fault, but even if it turns out it was, I’d forgive you anyways.”

Sam choked up in his reply, which came out to be a mush of sounds that were incoercible. Tommy laughed and waited for Sam to let him out. He activated the portal that would take him outside to where Sam Nook waited for him. Tommy waved goodbye, and Sam weakly raised his hand. 

It was nice to watch him leave this time. 

**Author's Note:**

> can always count on mcyt to get me out of the break i was taking lmao
> 
> but i'm so excited to see where the rest of this arc goes. all the wilbur stuff, the revivals, and the way everyone is processing everything is just so good that im so hyped up.
> 
> and yes the title is from it's quiet uptown, it's been on repeat for a while now.
> 
> vibe with me on tumblr: knightpuffy


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